


Creeper Creeper

by ididntdoit_blameitonthedragon



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Monster's Perspective, Poetry, Supporting Work, Written To Overcome Writer's Block, in some sort of way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 04:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16988208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ididntdoit_blameitonthedragon/pseuds/ididntdoit_blameitonthedragon
Summary: A perspective of a monster as it hunts Keith and Lance who wander into its territory.This is a supporting work to my collaboration with Cinnamon Child, titledHome Is Where The Heart Is***Light. Flickering light. Dull, flickering flames of light that lick at the darkness and devour. Their lights are soft, warm little glows of blue and red, pulsating to the beat of their footsteps, to the beat of the thing in that chest that calls to us.It calls to us.And who are we to deny the call, to ignore the beckoning that pulls at our very bodies like the earth pulls the fire into the sky and the pale into the night.





	Creeper Creeper

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Home Is Where The Heart Is](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16731336) by [CinnamonChild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnamonChild/pseuds/CinnamonChild), [ididntdoit_blameitonthedragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ididntdoit_blameitonthedragon/pseuds/ididntdoit_blameitonthedragon). 



Light. 

Flickering light. 

Dull, flickering flames of light that lick at the darkness and _devour._  
Their lights are soft, warm little glows of blue and red, pulsating to the beat of their footsteps, to the beat of the thing in that chest that calls to us. _It calls to us._  
And who are we to deny the call, to ignore the beckoning that pulls at our very bodies like the earth pulls the fire into the sky and the pale into the night. 

The smell is in the air, the voices in the earth as we reach out, further and further from where we stand to the small, flickering lights that wander into our midst. We call to them. And they call back. 

And we—  
_Not yet,_ the song sings. _Not yet, not yet,_ the song sings to us, knowing, all-knowing. The time is not yet right, they are not yet lost. 

We _obey._

_Not yet,_ we reply, because it is not for us to defy, to disregard the beating of the earth. The young ones are impatient, as are all that have not yet learnt to listen; to sit still and wait until that which will be given, _is._  
Light will come. Light always comes, when the pale wanes and the fires rise, light is blessed upon our skins and we bask in their glory. 

Light.  
Flickering, light.  
Flickering, playful light. 

Small, yet vibrant petals of quintessence, these flames draw us from the ever stretching, never-ending darkness. They call us from the earth, from the mountain, from the slumber in which we have waited since the last darkness claimed the skies and we were left with nothing but cold and quiet and _silence._  
Those that could not wait, turned. With tooth and claw, they turned their jaws on themselves, on those that natured them from the seeds that Light once sown. With jaws tight around their mother’s neck, they _turned._  
_Hunger_ they called it, and for the sake of nothing again, they killed and they killed and they claimed victory when the flickering light of mother’s became nothing but smoke. Ash. Fire and darkness that consumed even itself until there was nothing. 

_Nothing._

They all turned, to quench a hunger that could not be sated without Light.

Light.  
Flickering, light.  
Flickering, dancing lights, growing larger in size as the beating of their hearts quickens in pace, the tempo of the song beginning to heighten, the crescendo looming high as waves that crash to the shore, dividing the sand to find what is buried far beneath. _They’re coming._

They’re coming. 

The Light. 

_My light._

The light is mine and mine alone. I did not turn when the darkness came and hunger clawed at my throat. Instead I listened to the Earth and I listened to the songs of the world around, beyond the threshold of darkness until once again, light found its way to me.

Light.  
Flickering light.  
Flickering sapphire gems, ruby in their hearts as they flicker and dance; playful lights that tease me from the Earth. Their essence calls to me, like the song that thrums deep in my heart, my veins as I push from the haven of soil and root. There is pain, flesh pulled, bones aching when I stand and my body says _no._  
But the pain is nothing to the hunger in my throat, to the yearning that cannot be sated. I had not turned on my own kind, for there were none left. I had nothing to sate my hunger, only the will to wait until it would be, when the light which would be given, _was._

And now it comes, one, after the after.  
Slow moving but bright; sparks of light in the darkness that could not be missed. 

_Now?_ I ask, the song dry and raspy, like desert sand, coarse and harsh.  
And like the sweetness of summer rain, the song sings back to me. 

_Now._

**Author's Note:**

> So, random, I know.  
> I hope you enjoyed this, it certainly was something different to write.  
> This creature is a creation that Cinnamon Child and I came up with when writing Home Is Where You Heart Is. We'd appreciate it if you checked that out too, if you want to see what happens to the 'blue and red light' that this monster is hunting~


End file.
